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Reminiscences and Essays 



Charles B. McMichael 

Lawyer, Judge, Litterateur 



With a Sketch of His Career 
By 

Albert Mordell 



PRIVATELY PRINTED, 1 922 



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Copyright, ig22 

By 

Charles B. McMichael 



©CI.AGyn08 9 

NOV 10 22 



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For '' Ourselves'''' 



TABLE OF CONTENTS 



PAGE 

Sketch of Hon. Charles B. McMichael 7 

At a Bull Fight in Spain 18 

The Gayety, Charm and Frivolity of Aix-Les-Bains 23 

Impressions of Florence 29 

Studying Spanish to Read Don Quixote 34 

Catullus, Graceful Poet of Old Rome 38 

Terence 42 



SKETCH OF HON CHARLES B. McMICHAEL 

Judge Charles B. McMichael was born in Philadelphia on 
February 23, 1850. He attended the Friends' Grammar School 
at Fifteenth and Race Streets, and afterwards the Classical 
Academy of Charles Short at Twelfth and Chestnut streets. 
He was prepared for college by Reginald Chase, who had a 
school on Locust street. When a boy of fiften he decided to 
go to Harvard College. His father and brother had been grad- 
uates of the University of Pennsylvania. His father yielded to 
his wishes, and when sixteen McMichael entered the Class of 
1870. He was graduated with the class and not long ago cele- 
brated with his surviving classmates the fiftieth anniversary of 
graduation. Among the men of his class who have since been 
distinguished were Roger Wolcott, Lieutenant Governor and 
afterwards Governor of Massachusetts ; Brooks Adams, the 
author, and brother of Henry Adams; Judge Lunt, of Colorado, 
and Judge Monro, of California. 

Judge McMichael has told me that when a lad at college 
he often used to see Longfellow, the poet, on the streets of 
Cambridge ; Oliver Wendell Holmes, who entertained him ; 
James Russell Lowell, with whom he read Dante; Goodwin, 
professor of Greek ; Professor Sophocles, a Greek, who taught 
Homer; Dr. Peabody, president of Harvard before Dr. Eliot; 
Fiske, the American historian, who was tutor; Bowen, professor 
of political economy; Greenough and Lane, professors of Latin, 
and best and greatest of all. Professor Childs — "Stubby" 
Childs, as the boys used to call him on account of his diminu- 
tive stature, whose name is familiar to all students of the English 
ballad. 

Professor Childs took a very deep interest in McMichael 
and commended him before the whole class for his work in 
English composition and theme writing. 

Professor Lowell, who had resumed the teaching of 
foreign languages, owing to the illness of Professor Cutler, 
taught McMichael's class in Dante. He was always dressed 



8 REMINISCENCES AND ESSAYS 

with great care and elegance and read Dante in the original 
Italian and also translated it. Judge McMichael relates that 
the boys were somewhat restless under Professor Lowell's 
instruction and were not as quiet and orderly as they should 
have been. This seemed to irritate Lowell very much. On 
one occasion he became very nervous and told the Doys plainly 
that if they did not behave better they would not get any 
more Dante, 

Judge McMichael has also told me that during his senior 
year he used to go into the lectures on surgery at the clinic 
of a Massachusetts hospital. Doctor Bigelow was the chief 
operating surgeon. Judge McMichael was not quite sure 
whether he would study medicine and surgery or law. But 
when he graduated and thought it over, he decided for his 
first love, the law. These earlier tastes have been followed 
by the Judge late in life. He has been an attendant of Doctor 
Da Costa's lectures on Saturday mornings for years, and he 
has gone to clinics at Jefiferson College occasionally, 

McMichael studied law in the office of William Henry 
Rawle, Esq., and was also a student at, and graduate of, the 
Law School of the University of Pennsylvania, which was 
situated where the present post office is. Among the pro- 
fessors at that time were Hon. J. L Clark Hare, Pemberton 
Morris, E. Coppee Mitchell, Theophilus Parsons, George 
Tucker Bispham, 

He was admitted to the bar on May 6, 1872. 

His early practice was in the United States Court, where 
he had a large civil and criminal practice. In the middle 
seventies he declined the position of first assistant United 
States Attorney, which was offered to him by John Valentine, 
Esq., then United States Attorney. 

He soon acquired a large practice in the Common Pleas 
Courts; he was much engaged in the trial of jury cases both 
in the United States Courts and in the Courts of Common 
Pleas of this county ; he was also quite often called upon to 
take part in jury trials in the Federal Courts in New York 
and other districts. He represented the firm of Vermilye and 



SKETCH OF HON. CHARLES B. MCMICHAEL 9 

Company, of New York, in the elevated railway cases in this 
city and other important matters; he was counsel for the 
Mercantile Trust Company, of New York City, in one of the 
Reading Railroad reorganizations ; he was retained in other 
litigations in the Federal Courts in New York and other 
jurisdictions. He had as colleagues James S. Carter, Esq., 
Joseph Choate, Esq., of Evarts, Southmayd & Choate; John 
R. DosPassos, Esq., and Hon. George W. Wickersham, of 
the New York Bar. 

At this period of his practice he represented the Have- 
meyers, the Sugar Trust, William A. Read & Company, J. P. 
Morgan & Company, Edward Sweet & Company, Seligman 
Brothers, and HoUins & Company, of New York. McMichael 
was directing counsel for the elevated railroad cases, in which 
Belmont & Company, W. H. Read & Company and Edward 
Sweet & Company, of New York, were the underwriting bankers. 
He argued the elevated railroad cases, in connection with Mayer 
Sulzberger, who was his colleague ; they were opposed by John 
G. Johnson, Rufus Shapley and Furman Sheppard, of Phila- 
delphia; James S. Carter and George W. Wickersham, of New 
York, were also of counsel with McMichael in the elevated rail- 
road cases. 

From 1881 to 1891 McMichael was assistant to the City 
Solicitor, Mr. West, and afterwards to Mr. Warwick, and he 
had charge of the city cases in the Supreme Court of Pennsyl- 
vania. Upon one occasion in the early nineties McMichael 
spent two consecutive days before the Supreme Court in arguing 
six different cases, one following the other. When he left the 
Law Department he was first assistant. McMichael compiled a 
history of the Municipal Law of Philadelphia, containing a 
digest of all the charters, statutes, and decided cases up to the 
date of the publication, in 1887. 

One of the first cases in which McMichael was employed 
as counsel outside of the city of Philadelphia was when, soon 
after his admission to the bar, he was sent to state the Penn- 
sylvania law of forgery before the court of Canada at Montreal, 
and demand the return of a fugitive who had forged the name 



10 REMINISCENCES AND ESSAYS 

of U. S. Grant, then President of the United States, to 
important papers. 

In later years McMichael was of counsel in several 
important cases before Canadian courts, and also was engaged, 
together with John G. Johnson, who was local counsel in 
Philadelphia, in foreclosing a Canadian railroad. McMichael 
was so fascinated by the charms of Canada that he purchased 
an island in a Canadian lake near the terminus of the railroad 
which he had foreclosed, and built a cottage and boathouse 
there. 

McMichael was appointed to the bench in March, 1896, 
by Governor Hastings, upon the recommendation of a Com- 
mittee of The Law Association of Philadelphia, of which 
committee C. Stuart Patterson, Esq., M. Hampton Todd, Esq., 
and J. Levering Jones, Esq., were members. They visited 
Governor Hastings personally, urging the appointment. 

Since he has been elevated to the bench Judge McMichael 
has decided so many cases in the Common Pleas Courts that 
it is impossible to enumerate them. He has been elected to 
the bench three times. In equity cases Judge McMichael has 
been reversed not more than three or four times; his per- 
centage of reversals in jury cases tried in Common Pleas is 
very small. During the last year he has not been reversed at 
all, and the year before that there were two reversals in jury 
cases and one in equity. In this latter, however, there was a 
strong dissent in the Supreme Court. 

At one time, during the busiest part of McMichael's career 
at the bar, he acted as editor of "The North American" for 
his brother, Clayton McMichael, who was then United States 
Marshal at Washington during the terms of President Arthur 
and President Cleveland. 

Judge McMichael has told the author that he used to go 
to his private law ofifice at 9 o'clock and then to the City 
Solicitor's office or to court at 10 o'clock, and then back to 
his private office at 3, leave there about half past 5, and then 
go to the newspaper office at 10 o'clock at night and stay 
there until quarter of 2. And he did this for two years. 



SKETCH OF HON. CHARLES B. MCMICHAEL 11 

He did the newspaper work out of affection for his brother. 
In these two years McMichael was under the literary and jour- 
nalistic direction of Mr. George Rogers, now editor of "The 
Philadelphia Inquirer." 

In a recent life of Goethe by Hume Browne, Goethe is 
quoted as having said something to the effect that if a man 
turn whithersoe'er he will, he will return to the path which 
Providence destined him for. A good deal of Judge 
McMichael's leisure time after he had graduated from college 
and had been admitted to the bar was devoted to the study 
of literature, and all his life he has been a student of foreign 
languages. At the suggestion of Mr. Rogers, who was 
then chief editor of his father's newspaper, "The North 
American," he wrote for that paper a number of articles 
upon special subjects. He remembers articles written upon 
"Fairs," "Markets" and "Dances." All these had quite a 
vogue, being copied in the exchanges. But afterwards the 
pressure on McMichael's time when he was practicing law 
was so great that all the literary work was abandoned except 
that three afternoons a week were given up to the study of 
French and German. McMichael had a teacher in each of 
these languages come to his office at 5 o'clock, and they would 
generally spend an hour in study. He has continued all 
through life studying and reading foreign languages. In 
addition to French and German he has studied Italian, Spanish 
(though he did not take up Spanish until he was over fifty) 
and Swedish. And besides that he had kept up his Greek and 
Latin studies. 

McMichael during the most active part of his career at the 
bar, when at home in the summer vacation (for he seldom left 
town during the months of July and August, taking his vacation 
later), translated into English several of the odes of Horace, and 
poems of Catullus and Tibullus ; but he thought that this devotion 
to literature might interfere with his reputation and success as a 
lawyer and advocate, and at the end of the summer he destroyed 
these translations. 

He is ruled by a very great passion for letters, and 



12 REMINISCENCES AND ESSAYS 

has shown himself a facile translator from the Spanish and 
Italian and a delightful critic of Latin and French authors. 
He has published interesting accounts of travels in Spain and 
Italy; he has composed poems that have merit; he is a great 
lover of the beautiful. 

Judge McMichael reads his classics in the original for 
delight. Of the Roman poets there is none whom Judge 
McMichael loves more than Catullus. The Judge is a man 
of broad tastes and is not driven by any Puritanical instincts 
to shun this fine lyricist, who occasionally introduces unper- 
missible things in his poems. 

Judge McMichael wrote a fine little feuilleton on Catullus, 
reprinted here, in one of the papers (The Press, October 24, 
1915), and it was translated into Italian and appeared in one 
of the Italian papers of this city. Judge McMichael introduces 
in his critical writings delicate personal touches that enhance 
their value and make them human and interesting. If he loves a 
poet he tells how he came to love him and why. 

When several years ago the Little Theatre produced 
some plays of Barrie and Lord Dunsany, Judge McMichael 
was tempted to go back to his Terence, and he wrote very 
gracefully of the Roman comedian. Judge McMichael reads 
his Terence in the original, as he does his Catullus. The 
essay on Terence is included in this brochure. Another play- 
wright of whom Judge McMichael is fond is Le Sage, whose 
reputation as the author of "Gil Bias" has eclipsed his fame 
as a dramatist. McMichael has also written of him. 

There is much delightful writing in his accounts of his 
travels in France, Spain and Italy. Whether Judge McMichael 
writes of a bull fight or of Toledo, Rome or Florence, whether 
he describes a health resort in France or the scenes of Don 
Quixote's travels, he is always entertaining. A clarity of 
style and a modesty of tone pervade these writings ; a sort 
of unconsciousness of his dignity as a leading member of the 
judiciary is present; he seeks to take you into his confidence; 
he shows you the places he has visited and tries to imbue you 



SKETCH OF HON. CHARLES B. MCMICHAEL 13 

with a love for the historic scenes, and, above all, for the books 
associated with them. He takes you, as it were, by the 
shoulder and says "If you, too, can love the old Knight of La 
Mancha, and you, too, can wax indignant with the divine 
Dante, then a bond of brotherhood is established between 
you and me." 

Judge McMichael has a great admiration for the authors 
in the Romance languages. He realizes that these writers 
have a certain love of color, a certain freedom from devotion 
to Puritanical ideals, that elevates their work from an 
artistic point of view. The American and Anglo-Saxon ask 
of a work of art, "What does it teach?" Is it something 
against the church and the state? Then dismiss it." The 
Latin asks, "Is it beautiful? Is it art? Is it a human experi- 
ence even though it cannot be made to square with the man- 
dates of the law? Is it well written? If so, give it to me." 
This is the more liberal point of view, and one may add, the 
only point of view for the proper and broader appreciation 
of letters. It is a position attained by very few ; Poe was 
one of our own writers who fought for these views. Judge 
McMichael adopts this standpoint. He is a great admirer of 
D'Annunzio, whom he regards as almost the greatest, if not 
the greatest, living writer. He is entranced by the matchless 
style and color of the author of "The Triumph of Death"; he 
esteems him as a patriot as well. He has translated D'An- 
nunzio's war poem, "II Rinato." Another modern whom 
Judge McMichael loves is the late Ruben Dario, the South 
American poet. We Americans have often such an over- 
weening pride in our literary superiority that we ignore what 
our contemporaries in the Latin and South American coun- 
tries are doing in letters. Dario visited New York some years 
ago, and his sojourn here was almost unnoticed. He had 
attained a little notoriety here for a while by a poem against 
Roosevelt. Dario's influence in South America has been 
tremendous. Brought up on the French Romanticists and 
our own Poe and Whitman, he achieved an enviable position. 



14 REMINISCENCES AND ESSAYS 

The first translation of a piece in English for a Philadelphia 
publication was by Judge McMichael. It consisted of 
extracts from a book of essays and appeared October 15, 1916. 
Judge McMichael has also translated a beautiful tale by Dario 
called "The Death of the Empress of China." It is a story of 
a wife jealous of her sculptor husband's devotion to a fine 
porcelain bust of a Chinese Empress. The wife destroys 
the bust. 

As a translator from the Italian and Spanish, Judge 
McMichael has done exceedingly fine work. He is faithful 
to the original, preserving the simplicity or beauty or gor- 
geousness, as the case may be, and one can never tell the work 
is translated. He reminds one of the translations from 
Gautier, Maupassant and others by Lafcadio Hearn, who was 
among the first to introduce the French Romanticists in Eng- 
lish, in the pages of "The New Orleans Times-Democrat." 

Judge McMichael has the distinction of having intro- 
duced for the first time to the English reader three great con- 
temporary foreign authors, the Italian collector of fairy tales, 
Diego Angeli, and the Spanish authors, J. Octavio Picon and 
Leopoldo Alas. Picon's "Souls in Contrast" and "After the 
Battle" are masterpieces. "The Menace" is also good. "Souls 
in Contrast" is poignant, psychological and humanitarian. 
The beauty of the descriptions in "After the Battle" where 
a modem French Sisera, without the cruelty of the Biblical 
character, deceives an infatuated Prussian officer in the war 
of 1870, is unsurpassed. "The Menace" shows how an injured 
workingman revenges himself on his employer by begging in 
front of his mansion. Alas's story, "Adios Cordera," tells 
how a girl was deprived of both her cow for market purposes 
and of her brother by conscription. The pathos and humanity 
of the tale are not surpassed by Dickens. Truly these Span- 
iards love art and can write. No one can read these tales 
without being filled with enthusiasm. One wishes that Judge 
McMichael would translate more, for it is a treat to the 



m 



SKETCH OF HON. CHARLES B. MCMICHAEL 15 

reader to get these stories so admirably translated. These 
tales have since been collected in book form. 

Hardly less important than these translations are the 
beautiful fairy tales, four in number, which Judge McMichael 
has translated from Diego Angeli's "Stretta la foglia," pub- 
lished in 1910. These are stories of the Italian peasants told 
by a nurse ; they differ somewhat from the English and 
French and German stories, though there are resemblances. 
Those translated are "The Story of Leombruno," "The Story 
of the Dragon With the Seven Heads," "The Story of Fiorindo 
and Chiara Stella" and "The Story of Oraggio and Bianchin- 
etta." Judge McMichael has also translated the beautiful 
preface of the author, "A Boy's Dreams of Fairyland." All these 
appeared in "The Philadelphia Press." 

The tale of Leombruno is especially fine. It tells how 
a fisherman was captured by a pirate and had to promise 
him his own son in order to be released. The Italian love 
of children is seen here. The old pirate wanted a son, and 
is disappointed when an eagle takes him away. The son 
marries a famous beauty, but longs for his father and 
brothers. He is temporarily released and makes his relatives 
rich. He is asked to marry a king's daughter and then con- 
fesses his marriage, though he was forbidden to do so. He is 
compelled to produce his wife ; she snatches away a magic 
ring she had given her husband and disappears. Then 
Leombruno sets out on a quest for his wife. He finds her and 
kisses her as she is asleep and she is restored to his affections. 

Judge McMichael has the true literary man's love for 
folk-lore, as he has for more intellectual literature. His 
literary labors are those of pure love. He finds in his library 
great pleasure in reading and writing. He finds naturally very 
few people who are acquainted with the unknown authors from 
Spain and Italy that he loves. 

Thus far Judge McMichael has published in book form 
two collections of translations. The first volume was issued 
by Boni & Liveright in 1920. It is called "Short Stories from 



16 REMINISCENCES AND ESSAYS 

the Spanish," and is a collection of six stories he translated 
into English, all of which, as enumerated above, except Dario's 
"The Box" and "Queen Mab" appeared in "The Philadelphia 
Press." There are three tales by Dario ; two by Picon and 
one by Alas. The volume was beautifully illustrated by 
McDevitt Welsh. It aroused favorable comment from the 
reviewers. "The New York Times" for June 18, 1920, said 
the translation was "wholly commendable. In fact, the book 
reads as if written in English and good English to boot. No 
higher praise can be bestowed upon a translation." "The 
Philadelphia Record," for January 23, 1921, said: "He has 
caught the Spanish spirit and made it blaze in every line of 
the stories. It is a delight to read Judge McMichael's masterly 
translation of the six samples of Spanish stories." 

There were favorable notices of the book in the "New 
Republic" and the "Boston Evening Transcript," 

In the early part of this year another volume of transla- 
tions appeared by McMichael. This was "Prosas Profanas 
and Other Poems," by Ruben Dario, and was issued by 
Nicholas L. Brown, of New York. This was the second time 
a volume of poems by Dario appeared in English. Judge 
McMichael's translations were literal, in free verse and caught 
the spirit of the original. There was included a translation 
of Dario's preface to "Prosas Profanas." The work attracted 
the notice of reviewers. 

Judge McMichael has also translated Rodo's essay on 
Dario, which will soon appear in print. This was one of the 
most herculean tasks ever undertaken by a translator, as the 
original is very involved. 

Most of McMichael's original articles consist of critical 
essays and travel sketches contributed to "The Philadelphia 
Press" and "The Public Ledger." It is from these that all 
the articles in the present volume, except the one on Florence, 
are chosen. McMichael gives all his writings a delicious 
personal touch. They seem to be written for a few friends. 
They are all spontaneous, lucid, kindly. They represent the 



1 



SKETCH OF HON. CHARLES B. MCMICHAEL 17 

man who sees with a generous eye and judges with a sympa- 
thetic heart. Judge McMichael has written on such diverse 
subjects as Chambery — the Home of Rousseau, on Le Sage, 
the French novelist, and on the Panama Exposition. He has 
described Spanish life in Toledo and Madrid; he has given us 
impressions of Rome and depicted Roman scenes ; he has 
written of France ; he has put on record the account of an 
automobile trip from Biarritz to Madrid. I should also men- 
tion his excellent account of his father published in "In re 
Morton McMichael." 

The sketches here reprinted are full of literary flavor. We 
see the scholar in the account of Florence ; the painter in the 
description, in simple vivid language, of the bull fight. One 
notes the tenderness of the author for Catullus, whom with 
Horace, Judge McMichael has always loved. There is a 
light touch in the account of the gambling at Aix-les-Bains. 
"The Learning Spanish to Read One Book" is deliberately 
and deliciously personal. In the article which deals with 
Terence we have again McMichael the scholar. 

The present brochure will, I hope, be appreciated not 
only by all those who have known and loved Judge McMichael, 
but by students of literature as well. 

Judge McMichael was married on the 7th day of June, 
1879, to Anna Mallet Prevost, daughter of General Charles 
Mallet Prevost and Caroline Sutherland Prevost. Mrs. 
McMichael died in 1904. He was married the second time 
June 14, 1911, to Susan Cummins Erben. 

Judge McMichael had two children by his first wife, Caro- 
line, now married to Frederic R. Kirkland, and Charles Pre- 
vost, who lost his life in the World War while in the service 
of the United States as first lieutenant in the ambulance 
corps of the United States army. 

I wish to thank the editor of the "Public Ledger" for 
permission to reprint the accounts of the bull fight and of 
the gayety at Aix-les-Bains. I also wish to thank the editor 
of "The Record" for allowing me to reprint part of the fore- 
going sketch. Albert Mordell. 



AT A BULL FIGHT IN SPAIN 

The morning' after our arrival in Madrid, we began to 
inquire about tickets for the "Correa del Toros." The portier 
of the Hotel de Paris said he would get us good seats. About 
three times a day some one of us would ask him in English 
or Spanish, "Have you the tickets?" With an amiable but 
irritating smile he replied "Manana," tomorrow. However, 
in the end he did not disappoint us. We had three seats "in 
ombra," in the first gallery. The "Plaza del Toros" is quite a 
long distance from the "Puerta del Sol," where our hotel was 
situated, so we took a cab. In Spain the cab drivers are a 
most pleasant and loquacious lot, and are always ready and 
anxious to discuss a "bull fight" or any other topic, and they are 
all "aficionados," that is "amateurs." "Fans" we would call 
them in our national game. 

In San Sebastian the driver of our carriage, who wore a 
picturesque red beret or cap, spoke with enthusiasm of the 
black bulls of Murcia and his favorite "Espada" was Puente. 
He said the Murcian bulls roared like lions, and he gave an 
imitation for the benefit of the ladies who did not under- 
stand Spanish. In Bilboa, our driver was a devoted adherent 
of "Bomba" and praised the bulls of Portugal. "They are 
as fierce as tigers," said he. The Madrid cabbies cracked up 
the merits of Porthe of Seville. 

On our way to the Plaza we saw a few of the "toreros" 
driving out. They wore beautiful costumes of blue, silver, 
purple, brown and old gold. When we arrived at the Plaza 
del Toros we found ourselves at a building about the size of 
the pavilion at the Polo Grounds, New York. It seats about 
35,000 people and was filled with a crowd of men, very well 
dressed and orderly. There were few women, and we were dis- 
appointed to find that these did not wear the mantillas or lace 
scarfs seen in pictures. Perhaps the ladies dress more pictur- 
esquely in Seville. The women wore their hats and I suppose 
were therefore about as popular as women today at a baseball 



I 



AT A BULL FIGHT 19 

match. Our seats cost $1 apiece and a trifle was expected to be 
given to the usher. The sellers of postcards, of cooling drinks 
and of "pastiles," or candies, were in evidence. 

The "toreros," or bull fighters, are divided into "pica- 
dores," who ride on horseback — these carry a spike or lance 
and their legs are protected by heavy gaiters, the horses being 
blindfolded over one eye ; "banderillos," who carry two darts 
or javelins, and the chief performer, who is called "espada." 
He carries a short, straight sword called "escope" and a cloak 
of brilliant red called "capote." The "espada," or "matador," 
always wears beautiful costumes. The "picadores," "bander- 
illos" and "espada" make up what is called a "cuadrillo." 

The performance began punctually. A procession 
of the "toreros" came into the "arena" and marched around. 
The director of the show and the "alcade" had boxes in a 
balcony immediately over our seats. The royal box was in 
the centre of the pavilion. The procession stopped in front 
and bowed. The "alcade," or mayor, threw down a key. 
The picadores took stations some distance from each other, 
and the other bull fighters were scattered about the arena. 
An official took the key and with it opened the door imme- 
diately opposite the royal box. The door was scarcely open 
when a huge black bull of Murcian breed came charging in, 
roaring like a lion indeed. Around the base of the inside of 
the pavilion was a running plank about two feet high and a barrier 
back of it about six feet from the ground. The bull fighters 
remained in the arena, but their attendants, when the bull charged, 
jumped up on this running plank and then climbed over the 
barrier into a place of safety. 

When the black bull of Murcia charged into the ring 
all the attendants of the "toreros" fled, but one man was a 
little slow, and the bull caught him and dashed him up against 
the barrier. The bull did not gore him, but four men carried 
the unfortunate one out, inert and apparently lifeless. Then the 
bull charged against the mounted picadores. He caught two 
horses with his horns deep in their bellies and lifted the 



20 REMINISCENCES AND ESSAYS 

horses and their riders into the air. The third horse flinched, 
and the bull cut him on the flank. This horse, a very pretty 
gray, was taken out of the ring, but subsequently was brought 
back to be gored by another bull. The "picadores" all got 
bad falls, but none of them was gored. 

By this time the bull was a bit tired, but still fierce and 
full of fight. The crowd was shouting "Bravo, toro ! Bravo, 
toro !" Then came the "banderillos." Two "espadas" of a 
different "cuadrillo" teased the bull with their red "capotes," 
and as the bull came at full charge the "banderillos" side- 
stepped and stuck their two javelins, flying colored ribbons, 
into the bull's shoulders. 

When the two banderillos had each accomplished a 
"doble" the crowd got excited. Then while other "espadas" 
were teasing the bull with their cloaks, and the bull, in. wild 
rage, was charging from one side of the arena to the other, 
Porthe came forward, made his bow to the directors and the 
alcade, asked permission to kill the bull, gave his hat to one 
attendant, received his "escope" — sword — from another, and 
the red "capote" — cloak, from a third, and went into the 
arena to kill the bull. 

Porthe was very handsome, tall, supple, agile and quick. 
He smiled as he walked forward. He waved aside all the 
other espadas, and for a few seconds the bull and he faced 
each other. The bull was bloody, his eyes glared with blind 
rage and for a few seconds he pawed the ground, and you 
could hear his bellowings above the shouts, "Bravo, toro! 
Bravo, Porthe," which came from the "aficionados." Then 
Porthe walked forward, smiling serenely, made some move- 
ments with the "capote," and the bull charged. Porthe deftly 
threw the cloak, "capote," over the sword, "escope," side- 
stepped to the left, holding the sword covered with the red 
cloak to the right, and as the infuriated animal charged within 
a few inches to the right of him he struck the bull's face with 
his left hand as he passed him. The skill, grace and courage 



AT A BULL FIGHT 21 

of the man almost atoned for the cruelty and barbarity of 
the show. 

Then Porthe, with his red cloak, excited the bull to 
another charge. He waited without moving a foot until the 
bull was almost upon him, the long sharp horns had almost 
pierced him, and then, with a quick, fierce thrust, Porthe 
buried the short sword forward of the bull's shoulder, so that 
it pierced the heart. The bull staggered, sank on its knees, 
then its hind legs seemed to crumple up under it, and after a 
few convulsive movements it fell over dead. 

Most of the matadores or "espadas" tease the bull when 
he is dying. Porthe did not. A pair of gaily caparisoned 
mules were harnessed to the dead bull. It and the butchered 
horses were dragged out, sand was scattered over the bloody 
places and a new and fresh bull was rushed into the arena. 

There were six bulls killed that afternoon. Porthe killed 
two, a young fellow, somewhat of a novice, butchered two, 
and another matador, beautifully garbed in light blue, disposed 
of two. 

The last matador was a Mexican, a "moreno" or "brown 
fellow," not very popular with the crowd at first, but he con- 
quered their applause by the skillful way in which he 
managed his capote and delivered his "escopada," or death stroke ; 
and he certainly saved the lives of more than one of his comrades 
by diverting the bull just as he was about to gore them. 

A young "Madrileno" was most unfortunate. He had 
bad bulls — "cobardes y malos" (cowards and bad ones) as a 
Spanish friend described them. He certainly must have 
wished himself out of the arena, for the crowd hissed him. 
I don't think he was a bit afraid of the bulls, but they would 
not charge, and it is not good form to kill the bulls except 
on the charge. And then it was not pleasant to have about 
35,000 voices yelling "cobarde." He got a bit rattled, but 
Porthe and the Mexican helped him. He finally killed his 
bull, but it was an altogether different thing from Porthe's 
"estocada." 



22 REMINISCENCES AND ESSAYS 

I have endeavored to give my impressions accurately and 
without comment. It is superfluous to use the adjectives 
"cruel," "barbarous," "relic of the past" or to express pity 
for the poor horses blindfolded and obedient, who were gored 
by the infuriated bull, who had no quarrel with them. The 
bull had no chance. He may have crippled one of his perse- 
cutors, but he had to die in the end. But on the other hand, 
to be a bullfighter a man must have wonderful nerves and 
every muscle must be under control. A slip may be fatal, a 
false step may cost a man his life. And then the ease and 
grace of these men is admirable, and the beauty of their cos- 
tumes makes a spectacle dear to the Spaniard. Two of the 
party said they would go again to see Porthe, although they 
felt sorry for the horses. The third determined that he would 
never go again unless he happened to be in Seville, and then 
he would drop in for a little while just to see if the fair Anda- 
lusians really did wear lace veils and mantillas. 



THE GAYETY, CHARM AND FRIVOLITY OF 
AIX-LES-BAINS 

The spirit of this place is a gay spirit and the better part 
of the cure is amusement, light and frivolous enough, to be 
sure, but serving to distract the mind while the body is becom- 
ing reinvigorated. One is not recommended to play golf 
strenuously, nor to ride on horseback, as at the Hot Springs 
of Virginia, and the strict regime of the German baths is not 
pursued here. Devote your mornings to the cure and the 
afternoons to "distractions," is the advice of physicians here 
at Aix. Tobacco and alcohol are forbidden, as are all sorts 
of vegetable roots, and — worse than all — bread and butter is 
taboo, but the fruits are so abundant and delicious here, and 
the cuisine so perfect, that you don't miss what you give up. 
And as to the "distractions" the most violent exercise seems 
to be "les petits chevaux," in which you toss away a few 
francs, and "Les grandes courses de chevaux," in which, unless 
you have a very winning way about you, you will manage to 
lose a few louis in the Paris mutuels. 

The race course here is beautifully situated about a mile 
from the town. The view from the tribunes, or grandstands, 
is lovely. But I don't think many are concerned about the 
scenery who attend the races. The ladies are chiefly intent 
on regarding the hats and frocks of the other feminines. The 
men stroll about watching the horses in the paddock. 

The bell rings and the horses come on the track, beau- 
tiful animals with the pride of race and the courage of the 
thoroughbred showing in their glistening skins, their clean 
limbs and bright eyes. There were five races each day of the 
races, with sometimes an added event. 

The steeplechase and cross-country were the best to look 
at. One day there were three races for army officers riding their 
own horses, and each rider wore the uniform of his regiment, 
whether it was that of the cuirassiers or dragoons. I picked out 



24 REMINISCENCES AND ESSAYS 

a chestnut ridden by a handsome young fellow in a light blue 
uniform. 

The chestnut took all the jumps well up to the last, but 
that one he seemed to take ofif a little late and he stumbled as 
he lighted. That gave a big brown one, who took his last 
jump on even terms, a decided advantage and I thought it 
was all over but the shouting. But the rider on the chestnut 
gathered his horse, and with a grand final efifort he brought 
his horse in a winner. 

Down the stretch the rider on the chestnut horse assumed 
the crouch seat of the American jockey, while the other was 
riding with his weight balanced further back. 

There has lately been much discussion in the papers 
about the American seat ; a learned English judge condemned 
it from the bench. It seems to me that you might as well 
criticise a man for carrying a weight on his shoulders and 
not on the small of his back. 

An English friend of mine here, a captain in a crack 
cavalry regiment, criticised the French riders, "It is awfully 
bad form, you know." I said nothing, but I can tell any of 
my readers who love to see a thoroughbred in action that these 
young French officers would give an American rider a run 
for his money. 

The French are not so serious as the English about their 
racing and the attending witnesses are very different from 
the crowd that used to throng at Sheepshead Bay or Belmont. 

The Queen of Madagascar was at the races one day with 
the Princess Royal. So also was Prince Prajahipok, of Siam, 
"Prince Jack Potts," as an American friend irreverently 
called him. 

The betting on these races is by Paris mutuels, the fairest 
possible form of betting. The French government permits it 
and regulates it. The amounts wagered are small — 10 francs, 
or about $2, at one window, and at another 5 francs, or $1. 
You can buy a "gagne" or "place" ticket — and, of course. 



1 



THE GAYETY OF AIX-LES-BAINS 25 

it pays according as the winner was a favorite or rank out- 
sider. I saw one ticket cashed for 257 francs for which the 
owner paid in 10 francs. Another paid 1 franc profit for 10 
francs, enough for "deux blondes bocks." I know the man 
who had this last ticket, and the beer tasted good, I can tell 
you. It was won on a big grey mare in a cross-country race. 
She looked good in the paddock, so my friend ventured 10 
francs for place, not knowing she was the favorite. She ran 
wide once, but finished a close second. 

I do not know whether my impressions have given the 
correct idea of Aix. Our ideas — Puritan, Quaker and Eng- 
lish — are so fundamentally different from those of the Latins. 
We are earnest and devoted to our business, whatever it may 
be, and we worship success, but we seem to lack "la joie 
de vivre." And in one characteristic we are totally unlike 
the Latins, namely in our manners. I once asked a Castilian, 
who was giving me lessons in Spanish, "What do you think 
is the prevailing trait of Americans?" "Rudeness," answered 
he. And certainly we are very abrupt. 

In Italy, in Spain and in France you will always find a 
charm of manner and a politeness that do not exist among 
us. It is always "Bon jour, monsieur et madame" in the shops, 
and on the street I never failed to get a very courteous 
answer to my inquiries, while I verily believe that if I were 
to stop a man on Broadway and ask him about Trinity 
Church he would not answer me at all. Entre nous, I have 
tried it. 

But, on the other hand, if you are presented, socially, to 
a lady or gentleman, you are at once tangled up in a mes'h of 
"bon soirs" and "au revoirs," from which you in vain try to 
extricate yourself. And this courtesy is not only to strangers. 
When a chauffeur asks his way in France he gets a respon- 
sive and adequate answer, and then it is always "Merci, 
Monsieur," "Bon jour. Monsieur," from one to the other. 
Young Americans pride themselves on their sense of humor, 



26 REMINISCENCES AND ESSAYS 

but they lack the politeness of the Latins. The English are 
brutally frank. 

Pierre Loti Avrites that the middle class Turks show 
more deference from young persons to older ones than in 
any other nation, and he instances that when a Turk enters 
a cafe, where his son happens to be smoking a cigarette, the 
3''Oung man gets up and extinguishes his cigarette that he 
may not smoke in his father's presence. 

I shall omit all other descriptions and shall tell you of 
kings and queens I have met here. The first royalty I met socially 
was King George of Greece. He was very affable and extremely 
democratic. He used to visit the "salle de baccarat" quite 
often and he went from table to table speaking courteously 
to the men whom he knew, and commanding, that is politely 
requesting, others to be brought up to him. The ladies used 
to courtesy to him, but in no other way could you have told 
him from any other gentleman. I never saw him play at the 
tables, and I don't think he ever did. On one occasion a French 
baron, who was a little lame, dropped his cane, and King George 
stooped over and picked it up and restored it to him. All the 
attendants at the establishment of the baths liked him very much. 
He was assassinated not many months ago. He is mourned sin- 
cerely here at Aix, where he had many friends. 

We were presented to the Queen of Madagascar, and the 
Crown Princess, and I was deputed to take her Majesty to the 
tea table. She is not a reigning queen, for the French govern- 
ment pays her 100,000 francs a year to do nothing. This is 
not much in French money, but reduced to the shell currency 
of Madagascar would, I suppose, make quite a sum. She is 
a brunette, in fact quite shady ; she was born that way ; she 
is very gracious and spoke very bad French, with a soft low 
voice. She lives in the winter time at Algiers. She is small ; 
the ladies said her jewels did not amount to much. I am told as 
the climate is warm in Madagascar they don't wear much in the 
way of costume except a girdle of feathers. Her French gown 
was not wonderful. 



THE GAYETY OF AIX-LES-BAINS 27 

Yesterday I was asked to meet the Prince Royal of Siam, 
at Rumpelmayer's. There were six of us, for the Prince 
is shy and did not wish a large party. Fraulein Rumpelmayer 
had the table prettily decorated with cyclamens, the flower 
of Aix. The Prince, who is about 18, and was educated at 
Eton, is a jolly, pleasant little chap, with quite an American 
sense of humor. I got off one or two jests which first saw 
the light of day many years before he was born and he 
laughed merrily. He had orangeade and lots of cakes. The 
ladies had tea, and the captain, who is in attendance on the 
Prince is what we in America would characterize as a thor- 
oughbred, one who would face a bunch of American ban- 
dits or a rapid fire battery with equal courage. I had 
coffee, which was delicious. I offered the Prince an American 
cigarette and in exchange he gave me a cigarette of Siamese 
manufacture. This I smoked in some dread, for it was made 
from very black and strong tobacco. I was afraid if I did not 
smoke it the little Prince would be offended. The captain 
said, "Throw away the nasty thing. Never mind the little 
chap," but I puffed away and the Prince gave me another. 

In France life seems gayer and more joyous than in 
Italy or in Spain. The French work hard and are thrifty, but 
there is a joy in life which other nations do not have. And, 
of course, you know that the Savoyards are as brave, truthful 
and honest as any race under the sun. The Counts of 
Savoie, afterwards Dukes and Princes, and now the reigning 
family of Italy, were all of them brave and good soldiers, from 
Amadee, of the white hands, Count of Savoie, of the twelfth 
century, down to Duke D'Abruzzi, whom I met some years 
ago in Philadelphia, the dinner guest of my friend, Cavaliere 
Baldi. They have all been brave and accomplished soldiers. 
It was the campaigns of Prince Eugene of Savoie which 
Napoleon Bonaparte studied so closely. The common people 
are as good as the nobility. My valet de chambre served three 
years in the Third Regiment of Zouaves in Algeria. 



28 REMINISCENCES AND ESSAYS 

You give a good many tips over here, but you get splendid 
service in return. All over France you see good roads, pros- 
perous people and hardly ever a beggar. In Spain and Italy 
it was different. And everywhere are comfort and beauty. I 
have journeyed through France a good deal — through Tou- 
raine, with its historic chateaux; through the Cote d'Or of 
Burgundy, through Normandy and Brittany, through the west 
and the southwest, and have seen the great cities of Nantes, 
La Rochelle, Brest, Bordeaux and many of the smaller towns. 
You find good food and good wine, if you follow the commercial 
travelers, everywhere, as well as clean beds and a polite welcome. 
We are apt to judge France by Paris and Paris by its more 
frivolous and external characteristics. This is a mistaken 
view. 



IMPRESSIONS OF FLORENCE 

I have thought it might be of interest to give you my 
impressions of a mediaeval city which has had a great 
influence upon the art and literature of the modern world. I 
have selected Florence, or Firenze, because I paid my first 
visit to it last summer, and because I think it is a type of the 
Italian city of the Middle Ages and the Renascence, or 
Renaissance, that is, the rebirth of classical art and literature, 
which bloomed into the most perfect flower in Florence. The 
name Florence, or Firenze, is, the flower, and the emblem 
of Florence is the lily ; first the white lily on a red ground and 
afterwards the red lily on a white ground. 

My first visit to Florence was on the third of July, 1913. 
We left Rome about 12 o'clock and traveled by rail through 
a beautiful and interesting country. We reached Florence 
about five. I confess that when I came to a branch road that 
led to Assisi I was strongly tempted to go see the city of St. 
Francis, and a little later, at the junction for Rimini, I was 
seized with a desire to stop at the home of the unfortunate 
Francesca. But I had not time to visit the abode of either 
saint or sinner. 

A persistent picture of Florence, the beautiful city on 
the Arno, which its inhabitants have called "Beata Civita," dwells 
in my recollection. I also vividly recall the Arno flowing down 
under the Ponte Trinita, the Ponte Vecchio, and the beautiful pink 
dome of the Duomo, higher than the dome of St. Peter's, with the 
exquisite Campanile alongside stretching aloft into the air. 
Although the days were hot, the evenings and the early hours of 
the night were such as one can only see in Italian pictures and 
experience in Italy. The translucent atmosphere without a trace 
of cloud, the blue sky, deepening after sunset until it became 
almost an indigo color, and the stars shining with sparkling 
brilliancy, enabled me to realize the inspiration of the great 
artists of Florence. 



30 REMINISCENCES AND ESSAYS 

After dinner we went to the Cafe Gambrinus in an open 
square called the Piazza Vittore Emanuele. A band there 
played "Dixie," and was applauded vigorously. Then it 
played "Tripoli" and "Roma." As in all Italian cities, the 
evening life at the cafes was very gay. 

One morning I started out for a walk, lost my way, 
inquired in my best Italian, and was answered in French. 
Quite unexpectedly I chanced upon the Baptistry, with its 
bronze doors, which Ghirardi designed and wrought, and 
which Michael Angelo said should have been the gates of 
Paradise. The same day I visited the Uffizi and Pitti Gal- 
leries. I cannot express the admiration and wonder I felt 
in Florence at being amid so many works of art. I tried to 
confine my attention to the marvelous work of Raphael, but 
other beautiful paintings forced themselves on my attention. 
The paintings of Credi impressed me. His flesh tints and 
atmosphere seem to me to be the precursors of modern art. 

When I recall Florence, the work of Delia Robbia, of 
Donatello and Benevenuto Cellini's mask of Cosmo di Medici 
and his small Perseus in wax, and Donatello's David in 
bronze at the Bargello are put upon my mental screen by my 
imagination. 

But why try to pick out a few among the many? Michael 
Angelo's colossal David and wall panels of Andrea del Sarto, 
painted when he was a patient in the hospital, now a picture 
gallery, are compelling also. 

After this feast of form and color, a drive in the 
Cascine in the cool of the evening was refreshing and an 
impression was made upon me that truly life is short, but the 
joy of life is keen. 

In this brief sketch it is impossible to give the names of 
many of those who have made Florence famous. In one 
church, "Santa Croce," are buried Michael Angelo, Machia- 
velli, Galileo, Rossini, Cherubini and Alfieri, men whose 
genius has made them immortals. 



1 



IMPRESSIONS OF FLORENCE 31 

Dante, the author of the Commedia — called after his 
death Divina Commedia — was christened, as all Florentines 
were and are to this day, in the Baptistry, in 1265. He was 
banished from Florence in 1301, and although he did not die 
until 1321 he never saw his beloved Florence again. The 
cause of his banishment was a charge that as prior he had 
been guilty of malversation of funds ; really he was banished 
because the political party to which he belonged had been 
vanquished by their opponents. At that time Florence was 
divided into two parties or hostile factions called the Bianci, 
or Whites, and the Neri, or Blacks. They were both factions 
of the Guelphs. The quarrel between the Guelphs and the 
Ghibellines was a source of endless war and bloodshed in the 
mediaeval history of Florence. The tradition is that Dante, 
when only nine years old, saw for the first time Beatrice, 
who was then about seven ; that from that time he worship- 
ped her, and that when she was fourteen and he was sixteen, 
meeting her in one of the streets of Florence, she spoke to 
him with so much sweetness and courtesy that she became 
the idol of his soul. And it is said that she died when but 
23. Others say that Beatrice was simply a creation of the 
imagination of Dante. Dante did not marry Beatrice, but 
married another. His wife's uncle was of the opposite fac- 
tion in politics and one of those who drove Dante into exile. 
When he left Florence he left his wife and children behind 
him, and he never saw his wife again. 

Soon after the death of Dante, Florence began to appre- 
ciate his greatness, and professorships were instituted for the 
study of his works. The first critic of Dante was Giovanni 
Boccaccio. He was born eight years before Dante died, and 
probably next to Dante himself is the most famous of Floren- 
tine writers. The greatest modern Italian commentator 
upon Dante is Croce. 

The third great name in Italian literature is Machiavelli. 
His "Prince" is a course of instruction to kings and rulers. 
His philosophy is cold-blooded, and he counsels treachery 



32 REMINISCENCES AND ESSAYS 

and deceit ; but Machiavelli was a man of high character, good 
conduct and charming personality. 

Among the painters Raphael Sanzio was the greatest ; 
but into whatever gallery or church you go in Florence you 
will marvel at the skill of the painters. 

Among the sculptors the greatest was Michael Angelo, 
that all-round genius, who was architect, sculptor and painter. 
His most famous work, "David," which used to stand in 
the Signoria, has been taken into the Academia. The statues 
of "Night" and "Dawn," in the Church of San Lorenzo, are 
conspicuous examples of his art. 

Delia Robbia seems to me to appeal to our humanity, and his 
sculptures of the choir boys are life-like. 

Of the workers in bronze, there are Ghirardi, who 
wrought the bronze doors of the Baptistry, which Michael 
Angelo said should have been the gates to Paradise, and 
Benvenuto Cellini, w^hose Perseus Slaying the Gorgon, in 
bronze, still stands in the D'Lanzia. 

A word or two about Benevenuto Cellini. He has left 
an autobiography which has been translated into English. He 
was a mediaeval Florentine. He was a goldsmith, and he had, 
in addition to a finished training in his craft, the business 
instinct. He was a man of the world, fond of life and of 
pleasure. He traveled widely, visited France, and went to 
Rome ; there he got into trouble and into prison. He speaks 
of this with more pride than regret in his autobiography. 
When he came back to Florence in middle life he aspired 
to something greater than making jeweled cups for cardinals 
and gold boxes for tyrants. He put all his money and all his 
time and all his talent into the statue in bronze of Perseus. 
The wax model, which is in the Bargello, is the most beautiful 
creation I have ever seen, and although Michael Angelo and 
Raphael were doubtless greater than he, yet Benvenuto 
Cellini, known to us by his own account of his own doings, 
seems more real. His statue stands today at the Ponte 



IMPRESSIONS OF FLORENCE 33 

Vecchio, where his goldsmith shop stood. And the "old 
bridge" still has jewelers' shops on it, and you can see the 
craftsmen working perhaps with as much zeal as they showed 
in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. Some historians 
contend that Donatello or Michael Angelo should have had 
this place of honor on the Ponte Vecchio for their statues, but 
a more representative man of his time and city never lived 
than Benvenuto Cellini. 

Pages of description fail to convey an accurate idea of 
Florence, and even pictures thrown upon a screen are not 
like the reality. I have endeavored to give you some faint 
idea of what Florence was and what it is today. If you desire 
to learn more about the history of Florence and the free cities 
of Italy, I recommend you to Sismondi's History of the 
Middle Ages ; if you want a particular account of detail of 
Florence, get from the library Edward Hutten's book on 
"Florence and Northern Tuscany," also a more recent book, 
Lucas's "Wanderer in Florence." These books, though some- 
what desultory, give charming pictures of Florence and its 
neighborhood. 

Anatole France's "Red Lily," and di Amicis's account of 
Florence in "Gli Tre Capitale" are excellent. 

The following lines were written in his note-book by one 
who caught but a glimpse of Florence, but has admired her 
ever since : 

blessed Florence — proud city of the flowers, 
Cruel and fickle now as then, 

1 hate to leave thy churches, streets and towers. 
Farewell — Before I die I long to see thee once again. 



STUDYING SPANISH TO READ DON QUIXOTE 

I was past fifty-five when I began the study of the Spanish 
language in order to read Don Quixote in the original. I 
had just read an old Little & Brown edition of 1854 of the 
adventures of the illustrious knight, with a life of Cervantes by 
John G. Lockhart and a translation by Lockhart of Cervantes's 
foreword to the first part of Don Quixote. The translation 
of Don Quixote is by Motteux. Lockhart has Englished the 
introduction to Don Quixote very well, but not sufficiently 
well, to adopt the Spanish idiom — it is not literal enough. His 
Spanish ballads are better. 

The translation of Don Quixote by Motteux is stilted. 
It makes you think of "Pamela" or "Clarissa Harlowe" or the 
"Mysteries of Udolpho," books I read to please my dear father, 
who adored them and regretted that I fancied such modern 
fads as Roderick Random, Tom Jones and Tristram Shandy. 
I laid aside Motteux's translation, determined to read what 
Cervantes had written in his own Castilian tongue. As a 
boy I had sprawled on the floor in my father's library with 
a huge illustrated volume of Don Quixote, and I knew the 
stor>' of the windmills and of the adventures at the inn, and 
of how the Books of Romance were burned, and of Dulcinea 
and Sancho Panza, and of Don Quixote de la Mancha. 

What did I care then whether the translation was good 
or bad. Neither was I concerned about style or humor. My 
point of view was different at fifty-five. I thought, "I shall 
find out why Don Quixote is, as it has been called, the best novel 
in the world beyond all comparison." 

I cannot tell why an original is better than a translation. 
The only translation which, in my opinion, is better than the 
original is Dryden's from Horace, beginning "Happy the man 
and happy he alone." This last is, however, like Liszt's 
variation upon Gluck — an elaboration of the theme. When a 
woman has wit and charm can we define those terms? Just 



STUDYING SPANISH 35 

as evanescent are the words "humor" and "style" when 
applied to an author. 

But it was worth my while to study Spanish to feel in 
physical touch with Miguel Cervantes. "How long will it take 
me to learn Spanish?" I said to my Castilian teacher. "Three 
years, but you will soon forget it," he answered. I studied 
hard with my teacher for three years four times a week from 
four-thirty to six-thirty. At the end of three years I could 
read prose and could talk fairly fluently. I dare say I have 
forgotten most of it, but if hereafter I meet Don Miguel 
Cervantes in the land east of the sun and west of the moon 
I shall be able to say to him, "Como esta Usted, Senor Don 
Miguel?" ("How are you, Senor Don Miguel") And he will 
say, "Muy bien, Senor Don Carlos/' ("Very well, Senor Don 
Carlos,") And my retort courteous will be "Y Usted?" (And 
you?") And his farewell may come "Hasta otra yista, si 
Dios quiere; adios." ("Good bye, until we meet again, if God 
wills it.") 

Spanish Castellano is spoken by more so-called civilized 
human beings than any other language except English. It 
has a particular interest for us Americans at this time. It is 
rich in synonyms, copious and full. It is spoken trippingly 
on the tongue. Every syllable has its weight, but it has not 
accent like the French or stress like the English. Its 
grammatical construction is not hopelessly bewildering like 
the German, nor is it a pure language, as is the Swedish. It 
was begotten of the Latin of the camp, and descended with 
Vandal, Goth and Moorish additions. It is not very difficult 
to read Spanish prose, but to converse in it — that is a horse 
of a diiiferent color. And most of the Spanish poetry I have 
studied is about as difficult to understand as Robert Brown- 
ing or George Meredith. 

Cervantes never really caught the public ear, although 



36 REMIXISCEXCES AND ESSAYS 

he wrote poetrj', romances, dramas and satires, until he was 
nearly sixty years old. Perhaps he was not properly adver- 
tised. Then he published the first part of Don Quixote, and 
he took the literan.' world of Spain by storm. A few years 
afterward he wrote the second part. 

Cervantes died on the same day as William Shakespeare. 
The character creations of Shakespeare are numerous and 
varied. Only two characters of Cervantes are alive today, 
Don Quixote and Sancho Panza. Those children of the under- 
standing, as Cervantes called them, are his real descendants. 
Shakespeare's brood is known wherever English is spoken. 
Cervantes's two types are familiar where Spanish is the idiom. 
English is the most widely spoken of civilized tongues, but 
Spanish is second, and wherever Castilian Spanish is heard 
people glory in Don Quixote and laugh at Sancho Panza. 

The impression we get from all Cervantes's biographers 
is that he earned hardly enough from his writings to keep 
body and soul together ; but he was fortunate to have married 
well, and while his wife lived, her common sense and the little 
money and goods she was possessed of, seem to have made 
them comfortable enough in a time and in a land where 
frugalit}- was considered a virtue. Later, when he did get 
some employment from the crown in the way of assistant col- 
lector of taxes, or some such political job, he lived at \"alla- 
dolid. Toledo and other cities, dividing his time between 
politics and literature. He was in prison more than once, 
but that was not an unusual thing in those days for a man 
who was in politics and short of money. He had the com- 
panionship and friendship of some of Spain's most noted 
writers, and it was a period in Spain, as in England, of great 
literary activity. 

Cervantes's end was most pathetic. Probably if he had 
lived in these modern times he would have been hustled off 



STUDYING SPANISH 37 

to Jefferson Hospital or to the University of Pennsylvania 
Hospital or to some other equally good institution. But 
surgery was a barber's trade in the Spain of the early seven- 
teenth century, and Cervantes died at about the age of 
sixty-five. 

The deathlessness of his spirit has placed him amid the 
immortals. The wit and humor of his writings remain for us. 
No writer in Spain has surpassed him in popularity, and Don 
Quixote has been translated into very many tongues and read 
the world over. 



CATULLUS, GRACEFUL POET OF OLD ROME 

Spending a half holiday in the Philadelphia Library, I 
came across an old friend, C. Valerius Catullus. The beauties 
of this Roman poet have long been a delight and a comfort 
to me. At this time, however, one thing particularly attracted my 
attention. I found in the twenty-ninth Carmen (Song) a 
new interest in a fanciful connection with the late European war. 
The twenty-ninth Carmen is addressed to C. Julius Caesar and 
begins: "Quis haec videt?" "Who can see this, who can suffer 
it, that one of the Kaiser's generals should have all the good 
things the Gauls and the faraway Britons used to have? You 
are Emperor, but you are shameless, a devourer and a 
gamester. You have already spent two or three hundred 
millions!" * * * 

"Are you afraid of him, Gauls and Britons? Bad luck 
to him," etc. 

Catullus, as I have said, is an old friend. He was not 
among the old Romans to whom I was introduced at college. 
We met later in a somewhat unusual way. When I was 
studying law my preceptor insisted that I go over and search 
for old deeds. I went, but I hated the old Recorder of Deeds' 
office down on Chestnut street so much that after I was 
admitted to the bar I always walked on the other side of the 
street. Sometimes I played truant from the Recorder of 
Deeds' office and from Fearne on ^"Contingent Remainders" 
(too much like mathematics) and Sugden's "Letters to a 
Young Man of Property," which did not interest me much 
either, as all my personal property consisted of a few uncol- 
lectible due bills remaining from my last game of draw, which 
was highly popular among law students in the early seventies, 
and my real estate was nil. Indeed I was more like an 
executory devise than a contingent remainder, for I had no 
particular estate to support me. 

When I thus deserted my law books I spent my time at 
the old Philadelphia Library, at Fifth and Sansom streets, and 



CATULLUS, GRACEFUL POET OF OLD ROME 39 

in a quiet corner I met Catullus. This is what he seemed 
like to me: A young man not much over twenty-two, very 
handsome, wearing a "toga virilis" gracefully flung over his 
shoulder, with arms bare, hatless and with sandals on his 
feet. In his hand he had a scroll of parchment, rubbed 
smooth with pumice stone, and he showed me his verses writ- 
ten in this little book. No lyrics, I think, have ever sur- 
passed them. In the songs he showed me he told of his love 
for Clodia, the wife of Metellus. Haughty and proud, through 
her Claudian blood, she nevertheless tossed all conventions 
to the winds and had many lovers. Though five years older 
than Catullus he worshipped at her shrine until, tiring of him, 
she forsook him. 

I can't reproduce these exquisite bits of songs without 
music; the song of "Passer deliciae meae puellae" ("Sparrow 
the darling of my little girl") and many of the "Carmina" are 
gems like intaglios, engraved, but translucent. In my younger 
days during many a long summer holiday, when business was 
dull, I endeavored fruitlessly to produce effective translations. 
These I destroyed when work got brisk again and clients 
came. 

The "Passer deliciae" — "Sparrow darling of my little 
girl" — (I don't believe the "passer" of this poem was an Eng- 
lish sparrow, but probably a soft and musical Italian spar- 
row) — is one of the most famous of Catullus's poems. In 
another song, composed upon the death of his mistress' pet 
bird, occur the following lines: "When my little darling's 
bird shall have taken the journey to the dark shades of 
Oreus, from which they say no traveler has ever returned." 
They remind one of Shakespeare's "the undiscovered country 
from whose bourne no traveler returns," in Hamlet's 
soliloquy. Did William Shakespeare ever read Catullus' lines 
or did the same thought occur independently to each other? * 



* I did not know when I wrote this of any previous allusion to 
this resemblance of expression. Later I found the following note in 
the Variorum Edition of Hamlet by Horace Howard Furness: 



40 REMINISCENCES AND ESSAYS 

And so I communed with Catullus and with many other 
kindred spirits in the dear old library. The earlier "Carmina" 
of Catullus are songs of a lover — passionate; they are of the 
flesh, not of the spirit. After his desertion by Clodia, Catullus 
made a voyage to Greece. When he came back he wrote 
more seriously and for fame and posterity, his poem describ- 
ing the marriage of Peleus and Thetis, and the wedding song. 

"Hymen-Hymenio" should have been set to music by the 
composer of the wedding march in Lohengrin — a foolish and 
anachronistic fancy, you may say, but Wagner is the musician 
who could have given the words of Catullus the truest inter- 
pretation in music, as Mendelssohn composed the music for 
the "Midsummer Night's Dream" of William Shakespeare. 
The poem I like best of the latter period is "Sirmio insularum," 
etc. (Carmina xxxi) "What is more blessed than cares dis- 
missed when the mind lays down all its burdens, and, weary 
with foreign toil, we come to our home and rest in the 
longed-for bed. Hail, beautiful Sirmio, and rejoice in thy 
master. Rejoice, too, ye waves of the Lydian lake ! Peal out 
every laugh that is in my home !" 

Charles Lamb, Moore and Leigh Hunt have endeavored 
to put this and other poems of Catullus into English rhyme. 
I personally prefer a prose translation. The invocation to 
his little island with its simple cottage, where Catullus made 
his summer home after his wanderings through Greece, has 
an appeal to me, like Kipling's "The Red Gods Call and I 
Must Go." Anyone who loves the woods and waters and 
knows the haunts "where the oiananiche are waiting and the 
sea trout's jumping crazy for the fly," knows what Kipling 
means. And one who has a little island home far from the 
madding crowd senses Catullus's thought when he says, 

"The undiscovered country from whose bourne no traveller returns." 
Stevens, and Douce, both commentators on Shakespeare, compare this line 
of Catullus with the line in Hamlet's soliloquy. Douce saj's no transla- 
tion of Catullus is known to have been made. C. B. McAI. 



I 



CATULLUS, GRACEFUL POET OF OLD ROME 41 

"Laugh and rejoice, little cottage, your master has come." 
Nearly 2000 years separate Catullus and Kipling and there 
are 1900 years between Catullus and Shelley. But they of all 
poets have known best how to express in lyric form the love for 
nature. To these were given by the gods the gift of expression. 

The metrical form of Catullus's verse is not so intricate 
as that of Horace, nor was the Latin tongue so wonderfully 
moulded into form by him as by Virgil. But Horace said 
in vain : 

"If you class me with the lyric poets 
I shall strike the sky with my head." 

Horace was a metrist, a satirist and a philosopher, but 
not a poet of the heart — not a true lyrist, as was Catullus. 
Virgil, exquisite as are the "Eclogues," perfect as are the 
"Georgics" — noble, religious and sonorous as is the "Aeneid," 
neither of these great Roman poets who came into the world 
a little later than he, have in music and melody excelled the 
lyrics of Catullus. 

He died young — some say at forty, others guess at 
seventy-one — but young in spirit — still vital, although he died 
2000 years ago. Though always a good friend of mine, I 
never knew him quite as well after I put aside all literary 
dalliance for the practice of law, but I never lost his fel- 
lowship. 

Catullus was born in Verona, and Sirmio was not far 
away on Lake Garda, but exactly where is not known ; a 
peninsula on the eastern side of the lake is probably the spot. 

Catullus seems to be reincarnated in Giovanni Boccaccio, 
who in his sojourn in Naples fell in love with the natural 
daughter of the King, and whose subsequent literary career 
resembles in its incidents and their influence on his poetic 
work the life of Catullus. And Gabriel D'Annunzio, of our 
own day, whose life and love and literary work constitute 
so large a part of modern Italian literature, seems to me very 
like Catullus. 



TERENCE 

Not long ago I spent a very pleasant evening at the 
Little Theatre on De Lancey street, watching the presentation 
of two modern plays, given under the management of the 
Plays and Players Club. One of these plays was by Lord 
Dunsany, the other by Mr. Barrie, 

They were well staged and cleverly acted ; by amateurs, 
it is true, but amateurs interested in the dramatic art for 
art's sake. Lord Dunsany's play is wildly imaginative. Mr. 
Barrie's is delightfully sentimental. Each of them seems 
to me to be founded on the author's fancy. Neither Dunsany 
nor Barrie observed any real people like the dramatis per- 
sonae of either play. The characters in Lord Dunsany's play 
are not a bit like real people ; nor are the fairies and pirates 
of Peter Pan ; and although I yield to none in my admiration 
of Peter Pan, and I think the Green Gods a wonderful work of 
imagination, if you will read "Heauton Timoroumenos" of 
the Roman poet Terence in the original or in Bohn's transla- 
tion, and then read the Green Gods and Peter Pan, you will 
say that Terence is more natural and that his characters are 
more like real men and women than those in either of these 
modern plays. And Terence wrote his plays more than 2000 
years ago. None of the plays of Terence is suitable to the 
modern stage. It may interest some of the theatregoing public 
to hear something about Terence and to compare his work with 
the up-to-date modern dramatists ; "hinc illae literae." For, not- 
withstanding the conventional plots and characters of Terence, 
his plays have stood the test of two thousand years, because the 
dialogue is human, the passion is human and the wit is human. 
Will any of Lord Dunsany's, which are the most purely 
imaginative of modern plays, be read even as a literary curiosity 
in 2115? Barrie stands a better chance, so inimitable is his 
style and so delicate his sentiment. 

One reason why this old Roman poet "dead and turned 
to clay" for twenty centuries, is of special interest now, is 



TERENCE 43 

that the theatre is undergoing trials similar to trials which 
beset the drama in those distant times. The indifference of 
the public today to true dramatic art is not unlike that of 
Rome in the latter years of the republic. Politics and shows 
interested everybody two thousand years ago. "Panem et 
Circenses" in their popular appeal were means to political 
success. The amount expended by a politician in Rome on 
gladiatorial and other games would startle a modern campaign 
committee. The proletariat liked the excitement of the circus 
and "bread and circus exhibitions" were provided for the 
voters by the political leaders. Politics is of as vital interest 
today as in the time of Scipio, Marius or J. Caesar, and the 
movies of our day appeal to the crowd much as the "Cir- 
cuses" did in Rome, and there may be something in a sug- 
gestion I have heard that they may become a force in politics. 
They afford entertainment for an idle hour. They have come 
to stay. Will the play of action and speech disappear in 
competition? Who knows? 

There was no printing in ancient Rome, and although 
books were published after being carefully edited, they were 
acquired by only a few at very great expense. The stage was 
a means by which imaginary representations of life were 
visibly presented to the public. Plautus and before him, 
Ennius, had delighted Roman audiences, but the plays of 
Terence, artificially constructed, following closely Greek 
models, never had a strong hold on the Roman populace. 
The poets and the dramatists in the latter period of the 
Roman republic were appreciated only by a select few ; the 
actor found it impossible to compete with the gladiator. It 
had been different at Athens, where the tragedies of Aeschy- 
lus, Sophocles and Euripides and the comedies of Aristophanes 
were a part of the daily life of the Athenian demos. But the 
Romans were too busy conquering the world to care for art 
for art's sake. 

It was to a select class that Terence appealed. There 
are, however, here and there scattered through his plays bits 



44 REMINISCENCES AND ESSAYS 

of homely wisdom which show that although a friend of 
patricians, he knew well the life of the common people. His 
power of imagination, his close observation and his gift of 
expression entitle him to be classed among the great 
dramatists. 

The period of the Roman republic after the second Punic 
war was one of great intellectual activity among the patri- 
cians. The ruling class of Rome, consisting of the great 
aristocratic or patrician families, prided -themselves upon 
their literary attainments. They studied the philosophy and 
poetry of the Hellenes and the dramatists of Greece, both 
tragic and comic. The playwrights of Rome closely imitated 
the Greek comic playwriters. Terence belonged to one of the 
ultra-fashionable cliques in Rome. He had been brought as 
a young boy from Africa by Scipio Africanus. The great 
general and statesman was a patron of art and letters. Another 
tradition is that he was the slave of Publius Terentius, that 
Afer, or African, was added to denote his birthplace. It is 
pretty certain that Terence became a freedman, that he wrote 
several of his plays when very young and that he was a great 
favorite in patrician circles. 

Terence's comedies are modeled after the Greek in the 
conventional characters, plot and dialogue. They are hardly 
as accurate pictures of the real life of urban or suburban 
Italy as the older "farces," to use a modern word, of Ennius 
or Plautus. "Father Ennius," used as a school book in all 
Roman schools, and Plautus seem to have had real and vital 
existence upon the stage, and to have been the early pro- 
genitors of that Comedia d'Arte which later produced the 
Harlequin, Columbine and Pantaloon at the country fairs and 
festivals of Italy. 

But Terence, although he was in vogue among the 
patricians, does not seem to have appealed very strongly to 
plebeian or popular taste. The people of Rome in his day 
preferred the circus to the theatre ; a whisper circulating around 
the audience that there would be gladiators at the circus, would 



i 



TERENCE 45 

have emptied the playhouse. Matters do not seem to have 
changed much at Rome, for when I was there several years ago, 
the "Palome," or the ball games, were all attended by a noisy 
crowd, who bet on every stroke, but no theatres, except cinema 
equivalent to our movies, were open. There was not a theatre 
in Rome at which comedies or tragedies were being presented 
while I was there. There were, however, many movies, and good 
ones, too. 

A saying which has lived for 2000 years must be of 
extraordinary vitality. Such are the famous words, "Homo 
sum, nihil a me alienum puto," "I am a man and everything 
human interests me." That speech occurs in "Heauton 
Timoroumenos," which Terence wrote about 160 B. C, and 
it has been a favorite quotation ever since. Literary gems 
abound in Terence's plays. 

Personal gossip about our friends is considered all right 
if friendly, and I have classed Terence among my friends for 
a good many years ; therefore I may be forgiven some per- 
sonal allusions to my early acquaintance with him. I first 
met Terence in the classrooms of Harvard College. Professor 
Lane introduced me. When called on to read a few lines from 
a play of my new acquaintance I gave an impromptu and 
decidedly original translation of one of Terence's lines. 
"Good," said dear old "Jimmy" Lane (than whom no greater 
Latin scholar ever held a professorship in Harvard College) ; 
"I am glad you don't use an interlinear, even if you have not 
bothered with the Latin dictionary." 

Although interesting, the play "Heauton Timoroumenos" 
has not an interesting plot. To write a summary of a comedy 
is a hopeless task; all action and dialogue gone, the skeleton 
may rattle its bones, but won't make us laugh. 

A severe father compels his son, Clinia, in love with 
Antiphila, to go abroad to the wars, and, repenting of what 
he has done, torments himself with regrets. The son returns 
unknown to his father and is entertained in the house of 
Clitipho. The latter is in love with Bacchis, a wanton. When 



46 REMINISCENCES AND ESSAYS 

Clinia sends for his much-loved Antiphila, Bacchis comes 
with Antiphila, who wears the costume of her servant. 
Clitipho, through the aid of Lysus, his slave, has wheedled 
money out of his father, Chremes, for Bacchis. Antiphila is 
discovered to be the sister of Clitipho. Clinia welcomes her. 
The self-tormentor consents to the match, and Clitipho is 
married, to keep him out of Bacchis's clutches. How dull that 
plot seems. But after all the plot and the characters were 
entirely conventional. It was the dialogue and the action 
which made the play go. Chremes, the old man, is the best 
part. He is shrewd, inquisitive and meddlesome. By him 
the lines "Homo sum," etc., are spoken in answer to the self- 
tormentor as an excuse for his meddling in the second old 
man's business. And it is reported that Chremes's lines were 
always greeted with loud applause when he spoke them. 
That indicates that even the populace is captivated by any- 
thing of human interest. Bacchis has some good lines, too. 
She is quite like the modern French type, as shown in Daudet's 
"Sappho" and Zola's "Nana," but better educated than these, 
although equally fond of dress and just as mercenary. 

The prologue was spoken by Turpio in the part of 
Chremes. This was a departure from the Roman stage tradi- 
tion that the prologue should be spoken by an actor who took 
a young man's part. 

The stage was set as a long street, with two houses on 
one side, and one on the other side. The time was the after- 
noon. The action was in the open air. I have never read 
any clear explanation of the musical accompaniment. Per- 
haps it was like the modern Spanish Zarzuela — spoken dia- 
logue with musical interlude. 



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